


Protecting the Defender and Defending the Protector

by honeysucklesandthorns



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Nolanverse, Tom Hardy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysucklesandthorns/pseuds/honeysucklesandthorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after Bane's reign of destruction on the city, no one has bothered to fix the damage that Batman caused to his mask, and he's wasting away in a modified prison cell. Jim Gordon delivers a letter to Michelle Danvers, informing her that she has been appointed as his attorney. Begrudgingly, she agrees and takes the job. The two have a history. A history that was long forgotten. AU. Roleplay-based.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Appointed Attorney

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, this is based off a roleplay. Dual-POVs. Slightly AU back-story. Reading and reviewing is absolutely lovely!

 

_**POV: BANE** _

Compared to the "pit", the prison walls that were currently holding him captive were an image much more suitable for a weak man. For Bane, it was too well organised and was a small reflection of the untruthful shell that enclosed Gotham. Each brick laid was one block more that stacked up to hope - a hope that would keep criminals away from exposure and into confinement, out of the eyes of officials and those alike.

Cleaning the streets was just another way to swiftly pull a mask over its citizen's heads, blinding them to the raw image of what a world less suppressed would equal to. Gotham was magical at choosing their higher power - however, when it came to a man dressed as a bat, the stream was disrupted and made to flow another way. Eccentrics from the woodwork began popping up, painting their faces, wearing masks - _a game_ , Bane thought, _nothing but tweaking the tiger's tail_.

What these men wanted done was only disturbing a hornet's nest. No goals were being granted, nor promises fulfilled. He'd almost wondered the sincerity in the criminal acts, whether them to be a serious attempt or a means to merely play with their food, not even being hungry. It'd become pathetic and the time to move Ra's al Ghul's plan into motion again had finally come.

However, now Bane had become one of the men he thought so poorly of. Trapped in the cell, he was stuck reflecting on what he'd done wrong. If it weren't still for his mask in poor condition, he'd be able to free himself easily. Though, the damage it had endured was only supplying him with a short-of-sufficient amount of painkillers. And even a small disruption of the flow would cause discomfort. He wasn't suffering completely, but he was reliving most of the pain from his attack done several years before.

The failure of bestowing Ra's al Ghul's vision onto Gotham was adding to what he was feeling in his face. His eyes hadn't stopped glossing over since the moment he was taken down by the Batman. Now with his body propped up against the back of the cell's wall, he was displaying a side of him that was detrimental to his psych. The humiliation and pain he was currently enduring was mixing with and resurfacing the pain he felt when he was excommunicated from the League of Shadows.

He remembered Talia's face, the fight he put up, the words, the shame - everything slammed into him at once and proved to the world around him that something existed inside of Bane that revealed he had heart. It wasn't anything he'd admit, but instead would have to have his body admit it for him. And so it was working very hard to do this.

With his unsteady breathing that was amplified by his mask, his eyes to the floor, and his posture weak, Bane was an easy target for the guards. Many slurs were aimed at him, reminding him of how pathetic he was now and how they agreed that the treatment he was currently receiving was far too friendly. They also thanked the God's above that no doctor would dare attempt to fix the mask. And considering it wasn't completely broken, it wasn't crucial that it'd be arranged.

One thing, however, was arranged - and that was for Attorney Danvers to take him on as a client. He was pleased with his choice, having done extensive research on her. Her credentials, along with her evaluations, proved to him that she was a Gothamite worth getting through to - that she'd not been completely sucked into its sleazy empire. He requested her services and was now waiting patiently for the next chapter of his life to begin.

**_POV: MICHELLE DANVERS_ **

In the weeks prior, Gotham had crumbled, almost entirely to the ground. Once booming establishments were reduced to abandoned street corners and darkened piles of rubble. The entire city reeked of heartbreak. Though the perpetrator was behind bars, rightfully, most of Gotham's inhabitants were still fearful to step out. Evidence of this was present all over - mail collected on tattered doormats, yards were unkempt. Everything had a layer of snow - or maybe ash, she still wasn't entirely sure - and no one cared enough to clean it up.

"I truly believe we're on our way to meeting our goal," the man continued, staring proudly into the crowd of reporters. "The Rogues will have their field back. The fundraiser is going well -"

"Liar," she hissed. His voice was silenced, a remote tossed onto the nearest cushion. She clutched a coffee cup in her hand, the string from a tea bag still dangling out the side. She hadn't refilled for hours. What was she doing? The answer was a mystery, even to her. The austere, hardened attorney was now listless, and despondent in her city. She blamed her lack of work. Without something to busy her mind with, the misery was more evident. In the strangest way possible, Michelle Danvers had been busy and idle all at once. She went into the office, every day as usual, but common cases were a thing of the past. They seemed pointless in light of all that had happened. The DA and ADA were dealing with the prosecutions for all of Bane's loyal mutts, leaving Danvers on the sidelines, mourning silently over the state of her city.

Knuckles rapped against the door. Fear washed over her with the consistency of cold milk, and for a minute, she remained sitting, stunned. Very few people were left in the luxury complex, despite the security promised. Fear had driven them out into the streets and out of the city. Vicious words filled her mind; raid, robbery, Bane's out and there's another -

"It's Jim!"

Upon hearing his name, she sprung off the couch. Sliding the deadbolt to the right, and unhooking the chain, Michelle revealed a snow-capped Commissioner. Something was wrong. She knew that look - she'd seen it cross his aged features too many times before. "Come in, please."

\--

 

His eyes were cold and still contrite with the task he was given. "I'm sorry, I tried every alternative. You can decline but -"

"Gotham Judicial System would send me off with a fee that could ruin my retirement. They aren't exactly the most reasonable people right now, Jim. I understand."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be - this is not your fault. When is the first consultation?" The detached tone was back, something she had mastered. She had just been handed a letter that could sentence her a life of mental, and possibly physical anguish, but this was business. She had chosen this life for herself.

"He... he requested you come immediately. No one is asking you to leave tonight. Tomorrow morning is fine."

Pupils dilated. Skin tightened over bone as she clenched her knuckles under the table. "The trial isn't for months, why-"

Gordon raised his hand, defeated. "I know. He requested meetings beforehand. You'll be compensated for time."

Winter time in Gotham provided a usually unnoticed problem. Everything looked as if someone had turned down the saturation. Before, the neon signs and billboards, the hot dog vendors and multicoulored culture typical of New York camouflaged it. That morning, as Danvers watched it whiz by through the tinted windows of one GCPD's Ford Explorers, she saw Gotham City for what it had been turned into; a war zone.

"Michelle Danvers, Gotham City Attorney. ID Number: Four-four-five-seven-nine." A red light blinked above her, granting her access. She cast a reassuring look towards Gordon and entered.

Whatever construction they had done on the common cells to detain him, they had done a considerably good job. It was dark; perhaps a mockery of his 'preference'. With fists clenched, she hesitated. The entire journey to the department, her heart had raced. Now, there was a dull ache from the overwork, her cardiac muscles were straining to keep up with her adrenaline. Her eyelids drooped as she inhaled through her nose. She had said the introductory speech hundreds of times before, and somehow, she brooded then that she'd forget something. There was little she could do about the her voice shaking. Taking one step closer to the cell, she cleared her throat and began.

"Bane, my name is Michelle Danvers. I was appointed to you. I'll be your attorney in the upcoming trial. I want you to understand that anything you say during this, or any succeeding meetings will be confidential. If I however, feel that you are a danger to myself, or alternatively, yourself, I will remit the case to a medical health professional. Do you understand this?"


	2. Fix It

_**POV: BANE** _

The remarks were relentless, being thrown in Bane's direction almost every 10 minutes. They were wastes of breath, with the prisoner being too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even recognize that he was being talked to. The temperature of the cell was almost as cold as the outside - in fact, one might argue that they'd prefer it. However, at this moment, it didn't seem enough for Bane.

Sweat streamed down his bald head and lined the suctioned edges of his mask. They followed the flow of gravity down, collecting at what would be his chin, and making a final descent onto his pants. A puddle was collecting at the knee, making the dark grey of the fabric even darker. Though, it was a stain amongst other stains, all a variety of liquids and chemicals that held stories within them.

Bane could tell you about them all, being as observant as he was. His photographic memory was a reliable and handy source to him, being it crucial to many plans and aspects in his life. He wouldn't come to realise until later that it would be the only means of remembering his beloved. For now, the pain in his face and the failure to the League of Shadows were the only things weighing heavily on his mind - those and one other thing: the location of Talia.

As many times as he asked, Bane was never given an answer. It didn't take him long to understand that they were sworn not to release any information on her. He could see them struggle to hold the thought back in their head, which swelled outward with how badly it wanted to break out of its captor's skull. Many times he'd want and imagined breaking it out himself. He realised he'd need to wait until he was presented with a mind that was worth cracking into. And it wouldn't be long before that opportunity walked itself into his line of site.

Falling in and out of sleep, Bane finally awoke to the voice of a woman. The edges of his eyelids slowly peeled away from each other, revealing blue eyes, surrounded by bright red veins that branched out in all directions. He frowned upon the interruption, having found a tiny moment where he was at peace in a dream. With it being short lived and not enough to reflect on, he pushed the feeling aside. His eyes then glided to the right of him at a pace that would make him appear to be annoyed with the sound.

As soon as his vision was halfway to completely placing its attention on her, Bane's head mildly turned along with. He took in a few long breaths, which could be heard clearly as he stared strictly onto the Attorney. " _Ms._ _ **Danvers**_." He again paused to breath. " _ **I've**_ _been expecting_ _ **you**_." His voice sounded as though he was holding his throat closed and talking in a high pitch. It was scratchy, like a speaker that had blown out from music being played too loudly. " _Of_ _ **course**_ -" he answered her. " _I_ _ **understand**_."

The veins in his neck pulsed and his throat ballooned as he spoke. Despite his terrifying front, he would not let his manners be excused. The oversize man placed his hands down firmly on his bunk, gripping it tightly, and pushed himself up away from it. It creaked in agony to the pressure it was being relieved of. His once arched back unfolded as he straightened up gradually, bones cracking in the process, giving him more and more height by the second. When he was completely erect, he stood still momentarily, and then shuffled his way towards the cell's bars.

The area where bar and brick joined was where Bane aimed to situate himself. He'd utilise the wall to stabilise his quickly crumbling stature, leaning most of his weight into the concrete structure. Whatever strength he had, he'd waste it on giving the woman a face to face meeting. He took a second to catch his breath and then reached out a hand at a leisured pace. It startled the guard, causing him to make a swift move to the gun on his hip. Bane tore his eyes away from Danvers and shot them onto the man.

Greatly amused by the threat he was still able to impose, Bane stretched out his digits in a very calm and surrendering manner. " _What exactly do you_ _ **presume**_ _I'm capable_ _ **of**_ _?_ " he directed his question at the officer, with two intense and sharp eyes. The underlying threat soon sizzled out, with his energy dwindling as fast as it was. His posture suddenly slumped, his eyes following along with as they hit the ground.

Bane's hand, which was reaching out to brace himself using the bar, finally was able to carry out its originally intended mission. It hung on tightly as he recharged himself. When he felt fine enough to re-enter his and Danver's conversation, he shifted himself slightly and moved his eyes back calmly onto her. " _I'm ready to_ _ **begin**_ _when you are,_ _ **Attorney**_."

**_POV: MICHELLE DANVERS_ **

In the duration of her speech, she hadn't moved any closer - hadn't dared to. She had seen one too many guards taunt the prisoners and shortly after, had found themselves smashed up against the bars with a portion of their uniform clenched tight within a fist. The consensus had been expressed that if he attempted to hurt her, he would lose the privilege of having her. She exhaled a shaky breath, one that was more than likely audible to both Bane, and the accompanying guard.

Three steps brought her into the little stream of light that the cell possessed. Now illuminated, she was giving him a clear image of herself. Her shoulders were stiff, pulled back as if someone was dragging her down backwards. Blonde hair fell in curled tresses around her shoulders. Her expression was passive, unyielding. Underneath all that stony exterior however, she was shaking like a child. However, the tension in her jaw released when the grating hiss filled the room. Immediately looking to the nearest set of pipes or air ducts, her eyes were pulled back to Bane. Disbelief creased her features, lips popped apart. He was breathing. The pathetic wheeze was the sound of a man, a seemingly cruel man, but still a man - trying to get oxygen.

With an authoritarian exasperation, she marched up, standing within three feet of the bars. He was still sitting on his cot, but the muscles rippled and twitched as he made the motion to get up. His back straightened - something Danvers wasn't sure he was capable of, after sitting in the position for what she assumed as weeks - and the taller he got, the more emotion deepened her eyes. Dread ripped through her body like rutted claws, tearing at the insides.

Now standing tall, Danvers had to tilt her head back slightly to meet his eyes again. The whine continued, and grinding her back teeth, she turned to the guard. "We're beginning now, Bane. You," she extracted one finger from the tight fist, aiming it towards the guard.

"...have my permission to leave."

Sweat beads decorated his entire forehead. The swallow was loud enough to echo against the walls. "I... I can't do that, ma'am. I'm not leaving you in here with this monster."

If there was one thing that irritated Danvers to the point of scowling, it was false heroism. Stepping up because you had to, or only for personal gain. It was condemnable in her book and something that Gotham citizens had a consistent problem with.

"I didn't ask." She took a step closer to him, lowering her head. "Refer to my client as a 'monster' again, and I'll have you removed. Now." Smoothing out a non-existent crease in her suit, she inhaled through her nose. "Your surveillance will assure my safety, and in the case that he does try to harm me, I promise I will scream."

The guard's eyebrows flew up, awkward in her overbearing shadow. "I..."

"I..." she finished his sentence for him. "...do not want to see you in this cell block again unless you have brought a medical team with you. That man's mask is severely damaged, and his pain is likely unimaginable. I don't want to talk about how long you have deferred this issue. As his attorney, I am demanding he receive medical attention. You are the one assigned to watch him. Am I correct in assuming this?"

"Uh... yes-yes, ma'am."

"Then you are in violation of his rights as a prisoner of Gotham City Police Department. He is receiving insufficient medical treatment for a severe condition." She took another step, closing in the distance between the two.

"Go, now. Come back with a registered medical practitioner, or not at all."

A response wasn't necessary, and Danvers wasn't sure she wanted one. Instead, the man bowed his head and ducked around her, keys tinkling as he did so. She took a moment to pacify herself before pivoting, cautiously, on her heels. Now facing him, Danvers looked fixedly into his eyes. Her chest was puffed out, sternum extended. Lips a straight line, she exhaled through her nose.

_**POV: BANE** _

The instant the word "monster" pierced through to his hearing, Bane frowned and lowered his gaze to the floor. It'd been awhile since he'd heard that term and there wasn't a particle of it that sat right with him. The guards, surprisingly, were using every negative term _but_ that one. The bar inside of his grip was beginning to feel the affects of his anger. The memories were again surging through to the surface and, once again, the small amount of relief that was opened to him was immediately slammed shut.

Bane's excommunication was all he could see and hear now. The final night he had with Talia before his forceful exile was, he thought at the time, the last he'd ever see of her. He'd eventually be proven wrong - however - the torment he felt on his heart still left an impacting scar. He recalled the expression on Ra's al Ghul's face and the disgust of his presence that he constantly fed him. Whenever Bane had lost himself in the blissful gaze of Talia, it'd be ripped from him the moment her father stepped in between them.

Obedient like a dog, Bane would lower his head, keeping his attention aimed precisely on the floor in front of him. He'd hear that damaging word play over and over in his head. It would be until Talia, against orders, would secretly meet with him, reassuring him he was not a monster. The feel of her soft hand against his wrecked cheek, although painful as it disrupted his wounds, still calmed him down, making him forget the destruction happening within him.

Not many more times was that able to happen. Once Talia's protector, turned suddenly to _monster_ , _cast out_ , and _forbidden_. Then, unexpectedly, Bane became aware of his present surroundings. _"...Refer to my client as a 'monster' again, and I'll have you removed..."_ His heavy eyes began climbing up the frame of Danvers' and then ultimately met with hers. He searched them, finding that there was sincerity in her request. Despite exercising her knowledge of law, it wasn't the only thing she was backing-up her statements with. He could sense that she was legitimately concerned with his condition.

Bane blinked rapidly a few times and shifted his weight again. His free hand rose to his neck and hung itself onto his vest. He breathed in and out a few more times, allowing his eyes to soften upon her before speaking again. " _Thank you_." His voice was soft and barely understandable. There was more air in the expression of his gratitude than there was vibration. It was closer to the whisper of an actual man - probably something of what he sounded like the days before his beating. However, he couldn't tell you, having forgot what much of anything was like previous to that day.

After reflecting on the events that just unfolded, Bane helped regain the professionalism that Danvers was fighting to keep between them and everyone else in the cell. His hand that was gripping the bar then fell to the horizontal one below it. It held on, treating it like a handle on a bike. " _I_ _ **need**_ -" His chest rose and then fell. " _The answer to a_ _ **question**_ _._ "

His eyes buzzed behind Danvers. " _Where_ -" He breathed a few more times and then swiftly reconnected their gaze. " _Is_ _ **Talia**_?"


	3. Code 29

Every laboured breath he took, she heard - even felt. Every so often, in her line of work, there was a criminal that was wrongly accused, or acted out of self defense. Albeit, the title of 'convict' subjected them to thoughtless discrimination and abuse. Demonstrated here with Bane, very few criminals were given the appropriate rights they deserved.

She winced. Winced because witnessing the severe excruciation of others was something she had yet to master. She was alone with him then, for the time being. Something settled over her, like a heavy sheet of silk, creasing over her slender frame. She had walked close enough now, that she could feel the chill emanating from the surrounding iron bars. It mixed with the heat from his skin to create a temperature that was a little less than accommodating.

"I can give you an answer," she naively promised, before hearing the question. For his sake, she wanted to give him whatever answer she could, even if it wasn't the one he wanted to hear.

The name, at first, meant nothing to her. The blank expression on her face reflected that. Then, the process of mental evocation started. Every newspaper she'd glanced at, every news broadcast she'd listened to, and every GCPD file she'd had the luxury of reading. The last group was where she discovered her answer. _Miranda Tate, an alias for Talia al Ghul._

The deadpan look changed, molded into something more pained. Her eyebrows pulled together, creating a groove in the middle of her forehead. She rolled her lips inwardly. _Miranda Tate was pronounced dead on the scene, Commissioner Gordon was present, and confirmed that the nature of her death was related to the vehicular accident._

The tone in his voice disclosed the significance of this question. Many of the guards probably had no idea who Talia was, nor did they care. This man was a menace to their city, why would they waste the time to answer a question? Danvers suspected that he'd asked it many times before, and despite the answer containing classified information, she felt a strange sense of duress to tell him.

"Talia..." she stopped, steadied her quivering vocal chords. Her tone had to be completely void of any opinions, because well, that was what attorneys did. They spoke without prejudice. "Talia didn't make it. There was an accident with a transport vehicle. She was pronounced dead... on the scene."

**_POV: BANE_ **

It was as if a small child had been handed a calculus problem. He didn't have a clue how to take the news. His eyes blinked a few times, before drifting down to floor like a falling leaf. The only means he had to express himself was through his eyes, which were flooding with a range of emotion. It suddenly became too much to handle. Bane's hand then tightened around the bar as his body began descending backwards.

Eventually, his rear hit the cot and he was back to sitting again. His hand remained grasping the metal, acting as the only thing that could physically console him. His breathing died down, taking a breath every few seconds, choosing to linger in his deflated lungs. Then it hit him all at once - his eyes closed shut, holding back the few tears that wanted to escape. The veins in his head were pumping hard, putting his anger on complete display.

It was the last straw - the last traumatic event that his body could handle before shutting down. Bane's eyes then burst open. He was fighting to catch his breath. On top of hearing the devastating news, the level of painkillers remaining in his mask was less than 1% and dropping. His hand then lost its grip and skidded down the bars, landing heavily in his lap. Then, without warning, Bane's eyes rolled up into his head and his large frame began falling forward.

The sound he made when he landed echoed loudly throughout the cell, continuing on through the rest of the building. Without hesitation, it alerted the guards who were waiting for any ol' excuse to wave their guns around. A pair of them came rushing down the stairs, shouting in the direction of Danvers to step away from the cell. However, to their surprise, they would find a fallen Bane, hanging on to mere threads of life.

_**POV: MICHELLE DANVERS** _

Death was always a hard thing for a person to understand. One of the reasons Michelle never became a doctor was that she didn't like bringing pain upon people, forcing them to cope with it. In that instance however, she had. She had tried to word her answer sympathetically, with as few grisly details as humanely possible - it hadn't been gentle enough for Bane.

The attorney flinched, but stood fast to the concrete. The sound was thunderous, it resonated off the walls and battered her eardrums. Her eyes were glossy, red-rimmed around the edges. She heard the doors open, and the hammering of boots against concrete. Bane's chest heaved, the hissing more prevalent than before.

"Move away from the cell, ma'am! Now! Move!"

She blinked, unemotionally. Everything around her was in slow motion, though her mind was racing. She was trying to comprehend what had happened, clouded with a sense of patronage that she couldn't place. A whine of protest scampered out of her mouth as one of the men wrapped an arm around her from behind. He started walking backwards, distancing her from the cell. Two guards crowded the door, and one of them unlocked it. The hinges howled as it swung open. Their steps were cautious, predisposed in case he was just faking this incident. The guard, who Danvers had told off not moments ago, and knelt down, pressing a palm to his chest.

"He's barely breathing. I think he's dying."

Those words served as a shotgun at the beginning of race. Danvers was coherent again, focusing on everything. Rage flew through her, coming out in every breath she exhaled.

"Get your goddamn -" Throwing all her weight into the other man, she wrenched his arms away from her shoulders. Situating herself, she exhaled. "Get your guns off of him! Out of my way!" Not caring much for courtesy at that moment, she shoved her way through the guards, all of whom held their aim on the collapsed mass on the floor.

Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, she reached down, pulling the man up by his collar. Sharp as a needle, Michelle's finger flew up in the young guard's face. His eyes went wide. "You've pissed me off twice today. You have one minute to not make it three times. Where's the medical team?"

Frozen, the man reached down and retrieved the walkie talkie off his belt. He swallowed audibly. "Can we... we need a medical team in here. Fast. We've got a code twenty-nine."

After hearing the confirmation that a team would be dispatched to the cell within ten minutes, Danvers turned her attention to Bane. She crouched down, heels squeaking against the dirty floors. Her hand twitched over his shoulder. Touching him could pose as a danger to herself, and maybe him. If he considered her a threat in his unconscious state, there'd be more problems at hand.

"Bane, listen to me. The medical team is on its way. I need you to look at me." He wasn't responding. Danvers felt the vomit churn in her stomach, her eyes drifted close, pacifying the feeling. "Bane, look at me." Disregarding all aforementioned safety procedures, she reached over his face, and pulled his opposite cheek towards her. Tapping it lightly, she repeated her demand.

_**POV: BANE** _

As Bane's eyes fluttered, his consciousness slowly pulled itself back. His environment was blurry and nothing would come into focus. He could see movement, particularly the shapes of men. Though, he was unsure of their allegiance to his health. Would he embrace his death? He didn't know the answer. Perhaps he'd be reunited with his love. But he doubted that the life after this would be anything close to accommodating his happiness.

The darkness slipped over his lids again. Whatever movement he made came to a halt. A peace seemed to sweep over him, his body going softly limp. But a touch to his cheek surged an energy through him, bringing him back to life. His reflexes rose to 100% as his eyes burst open and his hand speedily closed around the foreign one on his face. He breathed deeply, as his eyes pierced into the woman kneeling over him.

With the world still blurry around him, he couldn't make out the face. Disillusions were feeding into his mind, piecing a profile together on its own. Seconds later, recognition settled in and he realised the face: Talia. His hand that was still on hers loosened its grip. His eyes went soft, reflecting a man untouched by the woes of life. His other hand rose and eventually the tips of his fingers connected with her chin.

To believe that Bane's touch was almost equal to that of a feathers would be just as difficult to believe there to be gold at the end of a rainbow. However, the true believers, those that were given the chance to experience his human side, would take their belief to the grave. His fingers continued along the line of her jaw and continued up to her ear. His hand then slid up the side of her head, his fingers combing through her hair and down the back to her neck.

A single tear rolled down over his left temple, as he gazed blissfully up at her. " _I thought_ -" he stopped to breath in a couple times. " _You were_ _ **dead**_." The final word was broken and cracked harshly within his mask. Something was going wrong again, causing his eyes to flutter back up into his head. His breathing was starting to sound gurgled and soon any sound at all would disappear. The woman's face then began to fade, along with the strength in his arms, which both collapsed at his sides.

There was still life in him - a very small amount, but it was there. Bane remained holding on, but only had so long before he'd completely slip.


	4. Hospital

**_POV: MICHELLE DANVERS_ **

Clinging to whatever was in reach, Danvers noted his eyelids fluttering and heaved a sigh of alleviation. At least he was trying. Everyone was watching, scrutinising the situation in front of them. This woman attorney had come in, acting like this criminal's emancipator, and now, she was crouching on the ground next to him. Everyone was hoping for death, except for her.

What happened next happened all at once. Bane slapped his palm over hers, covering it completely. Hidden amongst the large size, her fingers were like that of a doll's. The strength he possessed in that gentle motion was remarkable, and as she instinctively tried to withdraw her hand, he held fast. A panicked whimper pressed against her tightly closed lips. Not wanting to alert he guards of what was happening, she swallowed the fear and stared down at him. Then, without warning - it suddenly wasn't that hard to concentrate.

His cerulean eyes stared up at her, benevolent and genuine. His wide fingers entangled themselves through her hair, and caressed the nape of her neck. How could a man, who had been the sole designer of a city's annihilation, be so warm and idyllic? So easily damaged?

"I thought... you were dead." His consciousness dwindled and Danvers sprung forward, not having time to dwell on the fact that he was hallucinating. "No, no! Look at me, do what I say. Right in my eyes, Bane - god damnit!"

"Ma'am, excuse me."

There was a series of cracks as she sharply turned to face the voice. Her lips were parted, eyes apprehensive. A middle-aged man, in a blue uniform, stood above her. A sizable bag hung over his shoulder, brightly colored. "Ma'am, I need you to step back. He's in critical condition, ma'am. Please."

Instantaneously, she obeyed and stood up. Her hand swept across his cheek, over the uneven ridges of his mask as she elevated off her haunches. Danvers rubbed her palms together, removing whatever dirt had collected on them. She didn't look back as the paramedics crowded around him, muttering jargon that she understood but didn't want to hear. Instead, she threw her shoulders back and ducked through the throngs of guards.

\--

"Code two-nine-six-seven, section one-A. There is an imminent danger of death, and two-A clearly states that if the prisoner is medically incapacitated, and cannot live day to day with heedful supervision, that prisoner is eligible for release as if on parole."

"He destroyed an entire city. Killed innocent people, and for what? Liberation?"

Danvers pinched the bridge of her nose.

"He is not being freed and dismissed of his charges, your honor. The lower portion of his face is-" She'd memorized the stack of papers in front of her on the way over, but her finger stomped down on a particular potion of the page. "If the facility cannot provide - which Gotham City Police Department cannot - the necessary ministration that an inmate requires, and in accordance with reasonable medical standards and a reasonable degree of medical certainty is likely to cause death to inmate, if left untreated, within twelve months, that inmate can be discharged to a nearby hospital." Michelle returned her eyes to the judge.

"What part of that is arguable?"

"Nothing. Your request is approved. I'll send the paperwork over to Gotham General."

_**POV: BANE** _

"Goodbye". The last word spoken to Talia before the swarm consumed him. The last he'd know his face to be whole. Fingers covered his eyes and hands over his face. The weight of 15+ men dragged him down, forcing an intimacy with him and the ground. Nothing came of it, until one of the men made their drastic move. He felt the initial blow, which wasn't as painful until the mob progressed. It wasn't until the 6th strike that he'd finally felt the damage.

The screams that escaped him were gargled, as the blood gushed profusely. Understanding what they had just done, the mob began stepping back in unison. It was a horrific sight and sent one man tripping backwards, babbling in a foreign tongue. As if they'd just witnessed the birth of the devil, their eyes grew with fear and they quickly scurried off in different directions.

The light from above cascaded down upon Bane, placing him on complete display. His blood that pooled around him was spreading like wildfire. The cracks in the floor were filling up and sending it down the steps like a waterfall. Bane remained on the floor, huddled and shaking in trauma. His eyes were open, watching the blood escape. He realized what he'd done much earlier and it didn't take this beating to wake him up from his "heroic" gesture.

The decision he made to save the girl still remained confident and solid in his heart. This consequence was worth watching her escape, watching as she jumped and caught her future, hanging on to it for dear life and then climbing to seal it. She was out and the final glimmer in his eye before his face collapsed, amazingly, didn't die. Even as he watched the crimson surround him, he still kept hanging on - just like she did.

Suddenly, the light on Bane's face was covered. He didn't bother moving his eyes to view the man responsible for it, knowing it was someone to finish the job. However, to his surprise, he felt two arms wrap around him and help him up. The man could feel his trembling carry over into his own body. "I'm a doctor," he told Bane. "I'm going to help you."

Dragging Bane away from the warm puddle wasn't easy. The prisoner was large and his dead weight from being in shock wasn't helping. Though, he still managed to get Bane propped up against a stone block and begin treatment. He warned him of the pain and briefed him on the procedure, but there was still no response. It wasn't until a few minutes into the doctor's work that Bane showed any sign of emotion.

A single tear swelled up in the outer corner and then rolled down his cheek. His dead eyes, however, kept a dull stare off into the distance. The doctor paused upon seeing this and meekly let his hands fall away from Bane's face. He brought his eyes to the prisoner's and placed his hand over his. "You will be alright. Be strong." Finally, Bane connected his gaze with the Doctor's. He lingered there a minute as they exchanged a positive and mutual understanding. He then nodded slowly, giving the doctor the reassurance he needed to continue.

Several hours later, the doctor finished. He did what he could, though for Bane, it was not enough. His face was still in excruciating pain. The ache was spreading from his head, down through his spine, and out the rest of his body. With half of his face wrapped in cloth, he spent most of his days up against the same stone block he was operated on. The doctor would check on him frequently, silently cringing as he would remind himself of the destruction when he'd pull away the bandaging.

Later, unknown to Bane, he would be given the means to upgrade himself. If it wasn't for him going through the horror that he did, he would have never been given the opportunity to become better, bigger, and stronger. It was a beautiful and wholly accepted day when Talia came back for him. It hurt that she had succumbed to seeing his face. She jerked back, but reminded herself of who he still was inside. It didn't matter to her. And she still loved him. "I'm here, my friend," he remembered her saying as she replaced his bandage carefully.

Though wishing he could smile, Bane instead signaled with eyes the happiness he felt. She didn't need to see a grinning mouth in order to know. She could feel his spirit inside of him growing and reaching out to her. It didn't take long to evacuate him. And when he arrived at the headquarters of the League of Shadows, his accident was promptly attended to.

How many times Bane would relive those moments in his dreams, he didn't know. They hadn't stopped and he saw no break in the near future. As his lids broke open, an artificial light struck his pupils harshly. He winced from the pain, the brightness blinding to him, and waited until his eyes adjusted until completely letting them open. It took him a minute to figure out his surroundings, until it came to him that he was inside of a hospital.

Automatically, Bane noticed the pain was gone. He was back to breathing "normally". His mask had been fixed. And, because of this, security was now a lot tighter. Upon moving his wrists, ankles, or any body part for that matter, he felt a taut restraint. Looking down, he could see a number of straps holding him down. These straps had been double, triple, quadruple reenforced. They knew the potential threat he was capable of and took no chances.

**_POV: MICHELLE DANVERS_ **

"...he's awfully malnourished, to be honest with you. I'm surprised he didn't keel over sooner." The young man flipped through the collected papers on the clipboard, his homosexuality obvious. "I can't really tell you the last time he ate. I'm going to guess a while. He's getting supplements now, intravenously. It's strange, because his muscle mass is astounding. Even without proper calorie intake, it looks like he managed to workout in the short time he was..."

"...detained." she finished.

"Right. So," he shrugged, looking sympathetic. His pen tapped against the plastic. "We're doing what we can to get his levels back up. He's been somewhat lucid, but he definitely isn't stable... if that's what you're asking."

The diverse noises of the hospital triumphed over the attorney's annoyed sigh. She hunched over the front counter, ringlety blonde tresses spilling over the smooth surface. Though the day was only half over, she felt like she had been going nonstop for at least forty-eight. Emotionally, she probably had.

"I'm sorry. Is he a boyfriend?"

Her head snapped up, a look of abhorrence, and maybe even chagrin, on her face. "Excuse me?"

Her tone had been so biting that the receptionist panicked and backpedalled. "I mean... I uh - you just seem so concerned about his levels. I don't know, I've heard weirder stories. Some girl came in her, with her jaw hanging off - you know what she said? She was in love with the Joker. Self-inflicted wounds."

The name elicited another cringe, as if someone had just drug a handful of iron nails along the length of a chalkboard. She almost cowered away from the counter, recalling the last criminal she had wasted a good majority of her life on.

"No," she replied, exhaling hard. "I'm his attorney. I take my cases... very seriously. The mistreat of him, criminal or not, was unacceptable."

"Amen to that." Ducking around the edge of the counter, the man made a motion with two fingers to follow him. "I don't know if he's awake - but if he is, by all means. Do what you gotta' do."

Danvers followed the man down the hallway, dodging nurses and grieving family members. To her, this was just as bad as graveyard. Remorse and anger filled the hallways like blood and was about as tangible. "Hoh-excuse me."

Turning to scowl at the unobservant idiot who had just crashed into her, Danvers was met with a man, who had been to busy staring into the room that the receptionist was now stopped at to notice that people were attempting to get in.

"Can I help you?" she cooed, acerbically.

Changing his expression from agog to unnaturally amused, he held up his hands. "Nah. Just never got to see the thing up close."

Her eyes diminished into fine slits. "This isn't a show-and-tell. Leave."

Returning her statement with an odd sneer, the man eventually walked off, muttering his annoyances under his breath.

"Lots of weirdos in here - enjoy yourself." The receptionist slid the large glass door open, allowing Danvers to join Bane in the room. As soon as she was in, he sealed it back up, and pulled the blinds over the glass, preventing any other gawkers from crashing the party.

Many would argue that a hospital was still a prison, only immensely more sanitary. She instantly saw why; Bane's wrists and ankles had been secured with straps that could support the weight of Wayne Tower. Closing her eyes, she listened, discerning the pattern of his breaths, and filtering out the beeps and hisses of the air compressor behind the bed. Her own breath combined with his, as she heaved a sigh of relief. The hissing had disappeared.

Walking gingerly across the room, Danvers scooted a chair away from the wall, and positioned it alongside the bed. If he was awake, they'd talk. If he wasn't, she'd wait until he was. There was something about the hospital's occupants that the attorney didn't feel like entrusting them with Bane's overall well-being.

**_POV: BANE_ **

Bane was 5 minutes into testing the reliability of the restraints. It seemed they knew who they were up against and, with that knowledge, built the contraptions on each of his limbs appropriately. He also began noticing a peculiar pattern with the structure of the walls around him. If this were actually a hospital, it sure was created with a heavy prison inspiration. But with his intelligence being so high as it was, it didn't take him long to figure out that this room was created around _him_. Or rather, not him in specific, but for the mold that fit the sudden rise in eccentric Gotham criminals.

This was rather humorous to him and he slowly nodded to himself in understanding of the over dramatic security. He didn't blame them, in fact - he respected them for their wise precautionary. Otherwise, he'd been out by now, making his escape. Then suddenly, the opening of the door to his room grabbed his attention. It was dark, keeping whether he was awake or not a mystery to the guest. It didn't take him long to recognise the face and the second he did, his muscles relaxed and gave into his confinements.

Bane's eyes followed Danvers as she travelled the room, taking advantage of what furniture they provided for a person to make themselves comfortable. He remained quiet as he watched her situate herself. He took note that she was extremely passionate about her work - even more passionate than what he had put her down to be before. He waited until she was close enough to the bed and then turned his face into the light.

" _I_ _ **hope**_ _you can forgive_ _ **me**_ _for our last_ _ **meeting** ,"_ he stated with more vigour this time. " _ **I**_ _wasn't quite feeling_ _ **myself**_." It was put as lightly as possible and done on purpose. There was a connection he felt with the attorney that brought him to believing she would be easy to level with. Her intelligence was commendable and the fact that she was able to keep her cool when presented with such situations was astounding. And, with that, it gave her the privilege to see a side of him that many would swear died along with that tragic day.


	5. Intravenous Attempt

**_POV: MICHELLE DANVERS_ **

She had not but a minute or two to pretend she was getting comfy. The darkness surrounded the mass beside her, and because of that, she assumed he had been resting. This assumption was wrong. Jolting out of the momentarily relaxed posture, she sucked in all her air, hand flying to the small patch of skin that was exposed between her button-up shirt. The sonorous voice broke the silence of the room, and unintentionally, Danvers had looked as if someone had just slapped her.

"I thought you were sleeping." Her hand dropped to her lap. "There's no need to apologise," she reassured him, attempting to look as soft as she knew how. "I don't blame you for feeling a little... out of sorts back there."

His voice was something different entirely now, unaccompanied by the forlorn wheeze. His eyes weren't quite as glassy as before, though just as vividly blue. There were two voices in her head, each conflicting with the other. A callous offender, large and merciless sat in front of her. If he hadn't been tethered to the bed, might've killed her. She should be afraid of him and a good part of her was. At the same time, the attorney's green eyes looked back at him with a certain sense of regard - he was a man. A human man capable of love, of compassion, of pain... just like anyone else. He wasn't a superhuman - he had fallen to pieces right in front of her.

She blinked, disinclined to know if she had been staring. "Are you... How are you feeling now?"

_**POV: BANE** _

Bane turned his head back to the shadow. It covered his face like an unannounced overcast. His eyes looked ahead of him and to the corner of the room. " _I've_ been _worse_." The restraints kept him from speaking with his hands, which were a large part of his communication. It frustrated him every time he attempted to make a gesture, and instead ended up reminding himself of the contraptions that were keeping him down like some rabid gorilla.

"You _appear_ as though you _fared_ out _well_." His eyes shot momentarily to their corners, taking a quick glance at the female attorney. Everything on her body was in order - even her attitude. She wasn't frazzled or overly compensating for anything. It was a switch from the type of human interaction and reaction he generally received. There was a time where instilling fear into others was overpowering and a successful way to get what you wanted.

However, after a period of repeatedly watching as men scrambled, quaked, and crumbled before him, forgetting all that they stood for in order to give it up for his mercy, it became disgusting. And he'd learn that certain minds were meant to be broken, bent, and redesigned, while others were meant to be disposed. It didn't taken long for him to master the skill of telling the difference between the two. They didn't follow him out of fear for losing their life. They followed him knowing they would lose their life to a cause, dying in honour.

Though, right now, Bane had no knowledge of which of his allies were alive or dead. And the only thing close to representing him was a few feet away. Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a male nurse, who invited himself inside the room. He kept his eyes down, saying nothing, and quietly closed the door behind. It was until he turned around did he notice that another occupant was beside Bane's bed. "Oh. Sorry. Just a check-up, " he said meekly before flipping the light on.

Brightness flooded Bane's vision, causing him to shut his eyes and cringe. It would take a minute before he could open them again, which gave the male nurse a chance to do his duties unadvised. His posture was a wreck and the fact that he was 10 pounds underweight accented it. The second Bane was able to keep his eyes open and see bold color seeping through the whitewash, he made sure to keep his attention fully on the male. Something just didn't sit right with him.

The nurse, with an IV in one hand and a clear bag in the other, approached Danvers sheepishly and then stood by her side. "Can I, uh- ask you to move, Miss. I need to - need to hook Mr. Bane here up to a new IV. Doctor's orders.", he squeaked out and then ended with a nervous laugh. Bane shifted his eyes cautiously over onto the man and narrowed them in on his face. He could see the sweat beads forming at his temples and a slight tremble in his hands. He was obviously up to something and it was only a short time before Bane would turn the situation on its head.

**_POV: MICHELLE DANVERS_ **

"Looks can be deceiving, right?" The laugh that punctuated her sentence was dry. Internally, she knew there was no denying that some of her parts - the more shaded, more concealed ones - hadn't managed quite as well with the emotionally traumatising day she'd had. Accompanying that fact, was that one that she was also a very strong woman. "I'm doing fine though," she continued, mustering up the closest thing she could to a warm smile.

The glass door was again opened, closed, and this time, a faint click was heard. She hadn't locked the room when she entered - why someone else would feel that as necessary measure was beyond her. At his words, she stiffened. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Mr. Bane, here? How professional of you. Tell me," Pushing herself up off the cushion of the chair, Danvers turned around, arms slithering into a tight cross. "What exactly are the contents of this new IV? As his attorney, I'm entitled to ask."

"I said... move."

"I will. As soon as you tell me what's in the IV." As the last word left her mouth, her expression changed entirely. Every muscle in her body hardened as the anger riddled her senses. This man now standing in front of her wasn't a nurse at all - but instead a vigilant onlooker. Someone who thought they were going to save the day and kill the criminal. She'd seen it before with Joker, and she was witnessing it again. The false heroism thing was becoming a problem in her daily life.

"Game's over. Get out before I call security."

The man witnessed Danvers' change too, because the bag hit the floor, needle tinkling inaudibly against the tile. His hand swept up, in a fluid motion with the intention of backhanding her. Seeing this, the attorney blocked his forearm, and gripped it firmly with both hands. Having friends in GCPD had its benefits; she had received self-defense tips, which as an attorney, came in handy more than one would've thought. Ducking around him, she twisted the arm and forced it against his back.

Her lips curled over her teeth, breath heaving out in gusts. "Was this your plan? To try and kill a man ten times your size?"

Instead of responding, the man's free hand reached up and gripped one blonde curl, his fingers closing around it. Grunting as he did so, the man pulled with all his strength. Unable to withhold the cry of pain, Danvers released the man's arm, caving to the direction her hair was being pulled. The burn erupted over the left side of her head as he continued to wrench her down towards the ground. Once he had succeeded in pressing her head against the tile, the man uncurled his fingers and scrambled nervously for the IV.

**_POV: BANE_ **

What played out before Bane created a tidal wave in his mind, crashing on and covering his reality. His past came flooding in again and suddenly he was back in the pit. The protector within him never let go. The day he watched Talia's mother be pulled into the wild pack of prisoners was a major turning point in his life. Pulling the child in close to him, he pressed her small head against his chest and wrapped his garbs around her. He wouldn't let go so long as the surrounding hungry eyes were present.

Bane's eyes flickered as his mind flipped from past to present. Before him was a youthful blonde's life at stake, in the hands of an imposter. His first impulse was to break his hands free, to protect her, to make that man pay for the mistake that he spent many days pondering, plotting, and planning. However, no matter how many times he yanked, tugged, pulled, shook, rocked - the restraints would not budge. Tiny dents were made, but nothing enough to create an impact.

But Bane would not allow his eyes to witness this woman's life slip away from her. He searched around him, turning his head in all directions in order to find anything that would end the fight. At first, to his dismay, nothing caught his attention - until his eyes happened upon a box on the wall that he observed to be the controls/release to his restraints. All in case of an emergency. _He had found his hope and despair_. He intensely stared at it, straining his neck in the process. His breathing was deep as it reminded him of the light above him in the pit. The way out. His freedom. Though, more importantly - her freedom.

After realising he'd spent too much time away from viewing the fight, Bane speedily turned his head back to Danvers, who was now on the floor. He could see that her chest was still moving - good, she was still alive. However, he did not see the attacker. With his brow lowered heavily over his eyes, he scanned the room, but saw nothing. That was until a hand came up from underneath the bed and latched its bloody self onto the edge. Bane watched as the man struggled to lift his body up, taking a few minutes until he achieved his goal.

Once on the bed, the imposter grinned maliciously and panted while he stared the masked man down. He was sweating profusely and having a hard time keeping himself upright. "Mr. Bane," he said between gulps of air. "I'm here to kill you." The manner in which he announced his objective showed that he had no remorse for the decision he was anxious to execute. He wanted this mercenary dead, once and for all. And the second Gotham was rid of him, the city could breath a collected sigh of relief.

Bane had dealt with men of this calibre before. It was nothing new and certainly not a challenge. There was always a slip-up and it would only be a matter of time until he'd catch it and snatch his chance to rise. He watched as the man prepped the IV, which was then stuck into Bane's hand. "Fast acting poison. No mercy for you. We just want you gone. You understand that?" The man began squeezing the bag, hoping to get the liquid running faster through the tubes.

"The justice of this city. The mere nerve it has to keep men- No." He paused to snicker. "No, no. Monsters. Monsters like you alive." As he continued massaging the contents, Bane traced the tube from his hand up to the bag. The man had obviously not done his research. Poison was useless to him. He was immune to the majority of them. The ones that did have any potential threat were rare enough to where he was confident in assuming this man would never possess connections of that type of force.

Thinking he had the upper hand, the imposter continued talking confidently. "It's disgusting. Not to mention, lawyers like your dead bitch girlfriend on the fl-." A rustling on the ground caused the man to turn away from Bane and examine the source of the noise. It was too late for him to react and, before he knew it, was in a choke hold by Danvers. Bane bent his eyebrows curiously and tilted his head. " _Then you shouldn't have mentioned it_!"

Taking a minute to proudly watch as Danvers had control, Bane decided this was a time to act while the time was given. She was a good fighter, however, not good enough. And it would be soon before she would find herself down and out again. The tube running from his hand was at his fingertips, which he began gathering up. Once he had a well enough handful, he yanked the needle out and molded his grip around it like holding a dagger.

Bane waited until the fight was again over. Knowing this man was not out to kill Danvers, he understood he wouldn't exhaust much time with her. When the imposter scrambled back, in hopes he'd not missed the death, the horror that struck him when the initial feeling of pain entered into his hand instantly washed away the excitement in his face. He gulped painfully hard and slowly lowered his head to find that the IV had been disconnected from Bane and was now inside of him.

"N-No," he pushed out in a desperate whisper. Bane's eyes quickly filled with satisfaction as the man realized what was happening. " _You're_ getting a _taste_ of your own _poison_. _Much_ like this _city_ was _given_ when _I_ took _charge_." Bane stopped to place more pressure on the man's hand, sinking the needle past the point it should've stopped. "But when you're the _poison_ \- like _me_ \- there's no stopping it!" The echo of his breathing within Bane's masked took over the room as he dropped his eyes from the man's and slithered them down to the bed.

From there, Bane continued onto the tube and then followed it until he reached site of his own hand, which had it tightly pinched. "Or is _there_?" After proposing the question, he turned his head back and watched as the man's eyes grew with hope. " _I_ will let it _go_. And I will watch you _die_. _All_ on the _basis_ \- that you do not grant me my _wish_." Upon hearing that the poison was being held at bay, the man's panic had returned. "Wh-What wish?" he asked trembling and sniffing up sweat.

Bane took in a large breath and looked away. He hesitated in the moment, imagining what it felt like to be on the other side of the needle. He knew it was extremely painful and delighted that the tables had been successfully turned. "The switch behind _you_ ," he said nonchalantly. He left it up to the man to discover it himself. And when he could feel the energy flow change within the man's body, he continued. "Flip it - And your life will be _spared_."

The man wasted no time thinking it over and nodded his head rapidly. But after looking down at his hand and frowning at his restriction, his eyes hurried back to his captor's and expressed doubt. Troubled by the man's thick weakness, Bane irritatedly shifted his eyes away. "You can _reach_." Even though appalled by what he just had heard, the man accepted and started his mission.

Though because of the man's complete lack of nerve, Bane held down his hand even harder, creating even more friction against his task. His finger's stretched out to their limit and when Bane caught a glimpse of surrender in the man's body language, he brought his attention back to the tube. "I'd _suggest_ picking up the _pace_. My _fingers_ are losing _strength_." He then turned and faced the man with a scorning look. " _And_ _ **I'm**_ _losing_ _ **patience** ," _he growled.

The man knew he needed to ignore the pain and just reach. He took a deep breath and braced himself. With all his strength, his arm straightened out and the tips of his fingers danced and flailed in front of the panel. He winced as he felt the needle dig and writhe within him. But after coaching himself through it and finally biting the bullet, he stretched enough and finally touched the panel. He then flipped open the door and pressed his index finger into the switch.

The clamps instantly released, shooting out compressed air as they did. Pleased, Bane slowly rose his upper body up, as if he'd just come back from the dead, but still kept the man's hand under his control and the tube pinched. "Alright, I did as you asked! Now, let me go!" The man hysterically pleaded. Bane kept his face forward a minute before turning slowly in the direction of the imposter. He examined his face and scanned his eyes over each twitching wrinkle, pellet of sweat, and bleeding wounds. "Let you _go_!" he said amused. "But you must _learn_ your lesson _first_."

The man shook his head confused. "Lesson? The hell are you talking about, lesson?! Look what you just- are, ARE doing to me!" he shouted. The man's behavior was shameful to Bane and he couldn't believe that such a pathetic mind had gathered the courage to execute what he had failed to do. "If you aren't willing to _die_ for it -." Bane paused and breathed in a couple times, watching the man's pupil's practically collapse into themselves. "Then it isn't worth _doing_."

Without warning, Bane's fingers released their hold that they had on the tube, allowing the flow of poison to run its course. Knowing the man would fight, he strongly took the man's hand into his, putting his palm over the needle so that it had no room to wiggle out. The man thrashed wildly, using all his might to squirm away. It was like a child attempting to escape a punishment from their father. There was no need for Bane to strain himself, for the fight felt close to nothing to him.

It didn't take long before there was less and less of a struggle and, pretty soon, the man folded onto the floor and passed away. After having watched the entire scene, Bane threw the man's arm to lay along with the rest of his body. Being of no more use, he tore his attention away from the lifeless pile and shifted it onto Danvers, who was looking rather out of it. He then climbed out of bed and slowly approached her, towering over her with an intimidating and overwhelming capacity. "Come, Ms. Danvers," he said calmly as he bent down beside her. He then stuck out his arms and scooped her up. "Our _chariot_ awaits _us_."


End file.
